


Hold Me Together

by An_Odd_Idea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, That’s literally all that happens, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony lives, aftermath of Endgame, implied PTSD, so much cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Odd_Idea/pseuds/An_Odd_Idea
Summary: Peter still doesn’t feel quite solid.  Sometimes Tony can’t believe he’s really there either.  They cope.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not copy, print, or reproduce outside this site, I don’t want to get sued.

  
It was loud in the house. People were all talking and laughing and hugging and crying, and there were just so many of them. 

Peter felt like hiding under a table.

Unfortunately, there were people sitting at every table, as well as on and around every available surface, all being loud. To make matters worse, Peter’s hands had begun to shake as the adrenaline that had carried him through the past hours wore off. His heart continued to beat fast, too fast, a strange fluttering in his chest.

_Like dust_ , his mind supplied, and he shivered in the warm air.

Eventually, he found his way to the porch overlooking the lake, where it was relatively quiet, and sat on the railing. A few people were out there, too, but they, like him, must have been seeking refuge from the noise and the crowd indoors and didn’t talk to him. Peter let out a long breath, but the shaky, dusty feeling in his chest didn’t go away.

As the sun set, people started to trickle away, leaving by cars or spaceships or portals, and some of the others started to stake out claims to spare beds and couches and corners of floors inside the house. Peter stayed outside and watched the orange glow light up the surface of the lake until it was the same color as the Titan sky. Balancing carefully on the railing and leaning against one of the posts for support, he hugged his knees to his chest to reassure himself they were still solid.

It was like feeling sick and trying not to throw up. Peter held almost perfectly still, feeling that he might break apart if he moved. His heart fluttered vainly against his brittle ribs, and he hugged himself tighter to maintain some feeling of solidness, but the dust persisted, like he was turning again from the inside out, one cell at a time. 

He couldn’t stop it, and he thought about calling out, but even that amount of movement would only speed it up. No one else would be able to stop it either, anyway.

The screen door opened and closed, and someone else came outside.

“You’re still out here?”

_Tony_.

Some part of Peter wanted to run to him like he had then, because Tony would know how to fix it and make everything okay. But it had been five years, or so they told him, and he felt too dusty to move anyway.

“There’s a couch with your name on it, but you’d better hurry before Pepper gets tired of fighting the raccoon.”

That made no sense, but there were a lot of things that didn’t make sense anymore.

“I’m okay,” Peter got out, in a half whisper that he hoped Tony could hear.

“Are you?” Tony came around where he could see him, and Peter felt immediately guilty at his worried expression.

He nodded, just barely. He wasn’t okay, but he was okay if the raccoon took the couch. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, even if he got there without crumbling.

“Good, because you’re coming inside now,” said Tony. “I don’t need any lawsuits from sleepy kids falling off my porch.”

_Oh_. Peter gulped, seeing himself falling off the railing and hitting the ground in a puff of dust like Mother Gothel at the end of _Tangled_. His heart beat harder, threatening to jostle him enough to set off a chain reaction that couldn’t be stopped.

“Kid, look at me.”

That was the kind of voice Peter knew he had to obey, and he forced himself to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Yeah, okay.” Tony looked around like he wanted to call for help, but he stopped and took a step closer instead. “Can I touch you?”

Peter wasn’t sure what that might do to his tentative grasp on wholeness, but it didn’t necessarily sound like a bad thing. Maybe Tony could hold him together. He nodded again, to the extent that he could.

“Right.” Tony gently grasped his arms just above his elbows, where they were still wrapped around his knees. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Peter found he couldn’t look away. He didn’t care how long it had been, he needed Tony to stay there and _help_ him. Even if he could have gotten words out, there was no way to describe the feeling that he was about to disintegrate with nothing to save him. He could only stare desperately into Tony’s eyes, searching for help that was probably impossible.

“You’re all right.” Tony moved his hands to Peter’s shoulders, never breaking their eye contact. “I don’t know what that brain of yours is telling you, but you’re safe. You’re sitting on the railing of my porch, and it’s just getting dark, and if you’ve been here as long as I think you have your rear’s probably going numb.”

It was, actually, but that was a very minor detail in Peter’s mind at the moment. He clung to Tony with his eyes, begging for him to do _something_.

“Okay, I’d love to sit with you, but I’m too old to balance up there. What would you say to moving somewhere else?”

He couldn’t move. If he moved, he would break. If he slid off the rail to stand up, his legs would crumble, and then the rest of him would crumble and he’d be gone. Peter shook his head, just a tiny fraction of a movement.

“Why not?” There wasn’t even a hint of annoyance or impatience in Tony’s voice, and he squeezed his shoulders gently, but Peter knew he had to answer.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Can’t, or don’t want to? I can carry you if that’s what you need.”

“I’ll break.” It didn’t sound right when he said it out loud, but he couldn’t think of a better word.

“You’ll break,” Tony repeated thoughtfully. “What happens if you break?”

Falling apart. Death. _Complete_ _nonexistence_. It all applied, but nothing really explained Peter’s deep dread except for one word. “Dust?”

Tony let out a long breath and squeezed Peter’s shoulders harder. “That’s not gonna happen. I know it feels like it is, but it’s _not_. That’s a promise.”

Some part of Peter’s mind knew that was true, but it didn’t feel like it. It _felt_ like he was about to crumble into dust again- that, or he would just spend the rest of his life on Tony’s porch fighting not to. His eyes stung with sudden tears that didn’t fall. He thought he should probably be embarrassed, but he still couldn’t look away from Tony’s face, which felt like the only thing really anchoring him anymore.

“Aw, kid.” Tony brushed Peter’s hair back from his face, unknowingly bringing him dangerously closer to crying and losing it all. “You don’t have to believe me right now, but I’m telling you you’re safe. I can’t imagine how terrifying all of this is, but you’re here, and you’re solid, and you’re not going anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter breathed. He wanted to believe Tony, but it didn’t feel like he could yet.

“Gimme your hands.”

Peter blinked at the sudden request, but he began to ever so slowly disengage his hands from around his knees. Tony covered them with his own and held them steady when he finally let go. They both took a breath.

“If I help you get down, would you be good to sit there?” Tony nodded at the little porch couch just a step or two away.

Fresh visions of himself shattering on impact with the ground plagued Peter’s mind. “I’ll fall.”

“Not if I have you, you won’t. That’s a promise, too.” Tony gave his hands a squeeze. “You trust me?”

Yes, Peter trusted Tony absolutely; it was himself he couldn’t even trust to stay in one piece, but Tony was different. He smiled slightly.

“Good.” Tony stepped close and wrapped his arms around him. “Hold on to my neck. You’ll need to stand, but you don’t have to jump.”

Peter clung on as tightly as he dared and shut his eyes. For one sickening moment it felt like he was falling, but Tony had him, and his feet barely bumped on the wood of the porch. He didn’t break.

“There, see, you’re doing great,” said Tony quickly. “Let’s go sit, come on.”

He guided him to a seat on the couch, arranging them both so Peter could lean sideways across his chest. “This okay?”

“Hm.”

Tony had his arms around him, and Peter shut his eyes again and let his head rest against his mentor’s collarbone. It felt like a safe place to be despite the still-looming threat of dust, and he held desperately to the feeling.

“You’re safe,” said Tony, as if to confirm his thoughts. “You’re just as solid as me.”

Peter pressed closer and fought the urge to hide his face in Tony’s shirt and cry. His breathing, which he had kept carefully soft and measured to avoid disturbing his atoms more than absolutely necessary, was growing heavier, speeding up, and he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop it, and it was going to finally set off the reaction that would turn him to dust. He tried holding his breath, but that just made it worse, and he felt his face already starting to crumble as tears slipped down.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Tony hugged him tight. “You’re okay, I got you.”

Peter buried his head in Tony’s shoulder, struggling to swallow his sobs before they shook him to pieces. He was going to fall apart, and then he would be gone, and his fingers shook as they anchored themselves in Tony’s shirt.

“It’s okay.” Tony was squeezing him tightly to his chest with both arms, holding him together. “You can cry, kid.”

“I’m gonna break!”

“You’re not gonna break.” Tony rubbed his arm. “I won’t let you break, all right?”

Peter hoped that was true; he was pretty sure Tony was the only thing holding him together anymore. It felt like his insides had already turned to dust.

“You know, before this, I had dreams where I got you back,” said Tony suddenly. “Then I’d always wake up and you wouldn’t be there and it was bad, but you know how I can tell you’re real this time?”

Peter didn’t know, not that he could have answered anyway.

“You’re heavy.” Tony tightened his hug just slightly to show his statement wasn’t a request for Peter to leave. “You feel that?” He took an exaggerated breath, causing Peter to move slightly. “You’re squishing me, and I don’t think that could happen if you were going dusty again.”

He made an excellent point, but Peter didn’t feel safe trusting it just yet.

“You’re still freaked out, and that’s fine. It takes a while.” Tony’s hand ghosted over the back of Peter’s curls. “Can you feel my breathing?”

Peter could, and the steady rise and fall was strangely calming. He let out a long breath of his own.

“Try to focus on that. Just be here, yeah?”

Squished up against Tony’s ribs, Peter had little other choice. He felt himself moved slightly with each of his mentor’s breaths, and without really thinking about it he matched his own to the comforting rhythm. Tony was solid, and Peter let himself go slowly limp until he was draped helplessly across him like one of Morgan’s stuffed animals.

He didn’t exactly feel solid himself yet- he felt more like a wet towel now- but that was definitely preferable to dust. Tony still had his arms around him, loose but present, and he rested his cheek against the top of Peter’s head. Even if he wasn’t quite solid yet, Peter decided he felt safe, and he let his eyes slide closed with a small sigh.

“You ‘kay?” Tony mumbled, and Peter felt the sound vibrate under his ear. He nodded- Tony would probably think he was just snuggling his shoulder, but he didn’t care.

He fell asleep.  



	2. Chapter 2

  
The hall light was on. It cast a comforting glow under Peter’s door, and he kept his eyes trained on it from the bed. It was late at night, too late for Morgan to be up, and Tony had acquired a much more normal schedule for her sake. Pepper was away with some kind of meeting, and May was at home in the city. Peter watched the light anyway, just in case someone walked by.

It wasn’t that he was scared, exactly, but he didn’t want to be alone. The darkness felt stifling, the room too big and too small at the same time. Peter’s heart beat a little harder than he knew was normal, just different enough to feed the creeping dread that lurked in the back of his mind. It felt like death, not in a scary way, just in a _waiting-for-the-inevitable_ way, but he knew what came next.

It had been a while since he felt truly dusty, but it was coming. First came the vague feeling of impending death, then the dust. Always.

Maybe Tony was still awake. It was worth checking, although Peter wasn’t sure what he’d do if he wasn’t. Slowly, thanks to anxiety that seemed to make his limbs heavier than ever before, he climbed out of bed and made his way to the door.

It felt bad to be sneaking around someone else’s house in the middle of the night. Peter took care that his door was quiet as he opened it, and he tiptoed past Morgan’s room to Tony and Pepper’s, where the door stood open. He peered in, but could see nothing.

What _would_ he do if Tony wasn’t awake? Not go back to his own room, that was for sure- it was dark and lonely in there. Maybe he’d just sit in the hall and try to wait it out. His heart beat a little faster.

“You coming in?”

Peter startled so badly that he had to grab the doorframe for support. There was a rustle of covers, and then Tony was in front of him, slightly rumpled but not at all sleepy-looking.

“What’s up?”

Peter wasn’t sure how to explain the _might-die-soon_ feeling that preceded complete dusty terror, but he was saved from having to answer when Tony took pity on him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Bad dreams?”

Peter shook his head.

“Just freaked out?”

“Kinda.”

“Kinda. Well, we can work with that.” Tony released him except for a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You need to stay with me a while?”

“Yeah.” Peter didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so needy, but that was exactly what he wanted. He was just a kid in a thunderstorm, only there was no storm, and he wasn’t really even Tony’s kid. “Please?”

Tony laughed. “Come on. It’s weird in here by myself anyway.”

Peter followed him to the bed and climbed up on the side that smelled vaguely like Pepper’s shampoo. His heart was speeding up now, verging dangerously close to the dustlike fluttering he dreaded, and he tucked himself under the covers and lay still, pressed to the mattress in hopes of keeping himself solid a bit longer.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so freaked out?”

Peter could see Tony out of the corner of his eye, looking at him, and he swallowed hard against his rising fear. “I just feel really dusty.”

“Yeah?” Tony reached for his arm and held it tight.

“Not dusty yet, I guess,” Peter amended. “Just, like really shaky and it feels like I’m gonna die for no reason.” His voice trembled, and he hated it.

“Need a hug?” Tony propped himself up against the pillows and opened his arms.

It was his last chance to move before everything got dusty and bad, and Peter climbed into them and held on. His face fit nicely into the crook of Tony’s neck, and he stayed there, hidden from the dust and the rest of the world. Tony hugged him tight, and neither spoke for at least a minute.

“How are we now?” 

“Still shaky.”

Tony combed his fingers gently through Peter’s hair. “What would help you feel less shaky?”

Peter toyed with a thread of his shirt. “Can I lean on you?” He almost got the thread stuck around his finger. “Like on the porch when I was first here?”

“Course you can lean on me.” Tony loosened his arms around him and lay halfway back on the pillows so Peter could snuggle comfortably against him. “Knowing Morgan, you could probably climb in my lap and I wouldn’t even blink.”

Peter snorted.

“Warn me first though. You’re big.”

Peter hummed and let his eyes slide closed. Enhanced senses meant he was accustomed to the sound of Tony’s heartbeat whenever they were near each other, but it was different to hear it so close. It was a safe kind of sound, and he pressed closer to it. 

“You feeling better?” Tony asked.

“Little bit.” Peter slung an arm across his middle, just in case he got any ideas about leaving. “Why does this keep happening?”

“Weird brain stuff.”

“Mhm?”

“That’s a highly technical term.” Tony patted his shoulder. “I took a psychology class one time in college. Hated it.”

Peter had to smile a little bit.

“I think I know how you feel, though.” Tony’s heart had sped up a little, and he started to run his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Not the dust part, obviously, but the feeling shaky like you’re going to die? I’ve felt that before. Still do sometimes, actually.”

His heart was still going fast, and Peter gave him a one-armed hug.

“That probably doesn’t help much; Oh so we both suffer, that’s great. Real useful.” Tony still hadn’t stopped playing with Peter’s hair. “What I’m trying to say is I know. Not that I don’t want to listen if you wanna talk, but you don’t have to try and explain all this stuff to me. I know you can’t always control it the way you’d like to, and I know it doesn’t always make sense, and I’m cool with that. You got me?”

Peter wasn’t sure why his eyes had suddenly begun to sting or why the lump in his throat was too tight to answer, and he pressed his head a little closer against Tony’s chest. 

“Pete?”

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“You good?”

It took him a while to be able to respond again. “That’s just really nice.”

Tony hugged him lightly. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I’m gonna cry on you.”

“That’s fine.”

Peter didn’t cry. His eyelids felt too heavy for that, and he sighed deeply.

“Sleepy?”

“Can I stay here?”

Tony gave him a squeeze. “Good luck leaving.”

“I’m Spider-Man.”

“Shh, you’re my kid. Go to sleep.”

Peter stopped. “Your kid?”

“Mhm. Night.” Tony sounded sleepy, but his heart sounded anything but.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Shhh. Sleep.”

Peter was too tired to press any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> This fic coincidentally shares a title with a Christian contemporary song I liked when I was 11, so it’s been the strangest burst of nostalgia every time I look at it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hasn’t been a week since chapter 2, but I finished this one and it’s the last, so I might as well go ahead and post.
> 
> I hope you’ve all been staying healthy and safe, wherever you are in the world.

  
Movie nights were different now. Morgan was too young to really appreciate things like Star Wars yet, but that was okay, Peter thought, even if he could recite every line of _Frozen_ from memory now.

It was cool in the living room, the perfect temperature for enjoying the fuzzy blanket across his lap as he sat cross-legged on the couch. Tony was right next to him, with Morgan snuggled in his lap and Pepper on the other side of them, and everything felt nice. Peter pulled the blanket up over his shoulders like a ridiculous smock. This was the new normal, he supposed, and it was good.

It was good, all except for the little twinge of anxiety in the back of his mind. That part he could do without, and he tried quickly to stuff it back down before it had the chance to grow into something worse.

Tony looked over at him- Tony had been developing some kind of rudimentary ESP lately- and raised his eyebrows. _You_ _good?_

Peter gave him a small smile, but he scooted closer to lean against his arm. It was solid, and he felt solid against it, and the flutter of dust in the back of his mind calmed. He rested his head on Tony’s shoulder.

Seeing her chance, Morgan climbed from Tony’s lap to Peter’s, jabbing them both with her sharp elbows and knees before she settled down with a satisfied little smirk.

“Oh I see how it is,” Tony laughed.

Morgan giggled and hugged Peter’s arm. “I got you.”

“Does Peter want to be gotten?” said Pepper from Tony’s other side.

“Sure I do.” Peter bumped his chin against the top of Morgan’s head. “You can get me whenever you want.”

The movie droned on in perfect sync with Peter’s memory. He was warmer now, almost too warm under both a blanket and Morgan, and his head felt heavier on Tony’s shoulder. Whole patches of the movie went missing while he dozed, and eventually he just let his eyes stay closed.

It was warm and dark, and there were people whispering around him; they must think he was asleep. Peter wanted to tell them he was actually awake, but his brain didn’t quite get the message to the rest of him. Someone picked Morgan up off his lap, and then there were hands gently laying him down on the couch and spreading the fuzzy blanket over him. He really shouldn’t let them keep thinking he was asleep, but once again he just couldn’t will himself into action. He decided whoever laid him down really did have a great idea, and he let himself fall fully into sleep.

~

When Peter woke up, he wasn’t sure where he was. He definitely wasn’t at home, but it didn’t feel like his room at the Starks’ house either. Frowning slightly, he opened his eyes and looked around the darkened living room, remembered where he was, and rolled over onto his back to debate whether it was worth it to get up and move to his bed. He felt wide awake now, but although he couldn’t see a clock, there was no way that it was anywhere close to a respectable hour to wake up. Peter sighed and petted the fuzzy blanket under his hands.

A small disturbance upstairs had him sitting up quickly, instantly alert for some kind of danger. Tony and Pepper’s voices murmured together, too softly for him to hear what they were saying, but it was enough to conclude all was well. Peter lay down again, but he listened with interest as footsteps, obviously trying to be quiet, descended the stairs.

It was Tony; Peter could tell by the way he moved, and he was breathing harder than usual. It was probably creepy to notice all that, but it wasn’t like he had _asked_ for that spider to bite him.

It sounded like Tony snuck right up to the back of the couch, and supersenses-be-danged, Peter startled a little when he suddenly found his mentor looking down at him. Tony jumped slightly, and he almost felt bad.

“You’re awake.”

Peter hugged his fuzzy blanket. “What’re you doing?”

“Ah...” Tony looked toward the kitchen like it might help him, but it was dark and quiet. “Can I sit with you?”

Peter sat up and scooted to one end of the couch, wrapping himself in the blanket and leaving room for Tony to sit next to him. He was still breathing weird, and now that he was closer Peter could hear his heart going crazy.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Tony startled again like someone had just woken him up. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not acting fine,” said Peter. “Besides, you snuck up on me and that’s creepy, so I think I should get an answer.”

“That’s fair.” Tony smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Bad dreams, is all.”

Peter’s heart twinged a little in sympathy, and he unrolled himself from his blanket enough to move a bit closer. “What kinda dreams?”

“Bad ones.” Tony chuckled slightly at himself, but an instant later his expression turn serious again and he grabbed Peter’s shoulder with a startling intensity. “Kid? I love you.”

Peter froze, barely daring to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. He was glad Tony didn’t have super-hearing, but he might have been able to hear his heart pounding even without it.

Tony’s hand tightened further. “You’re like a son to me, and if-“ He broke off, practically squeezing the life out of Peter’s arm by now.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter squeaked.

Nothing made sense. Either Tony was dying, or Peter was dying and didn’t know it yet, or this was Tony’s way of apologizing before sacrificing him to the gods of the lake- okay maybe not that last one- but something was definitely going on.

“Good god, _Peter_.” Tony pulled him into his arms, blanket and all, and crushed him to his chest like he would never let go.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter mumbled into his shoulder, doing his best to untangle himself enough to return the hug.

“I’m fine.” Tony took a deep breath, probably the first he’d taken in a while, and shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “I’m scaring you, aren’t I?”

“A little?” said Peter honestly. “What’s wrong?”

Tony didn’t answer him, just moved one hand to the back of his head, where it trembled against his neck.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter hugged him with the one arm he had managed to get free. “We’re safe here.”

“I know.” Tony took another breath.

“Do you feel shaky?”

“Little bit. I promise I’ll tell you what’s up, but can I just hug you a minute?”

“Okay.” Peter relaxed into Tony’s arms and let himself be held. He could feel his mentor’s heart pounding against his own and ventured to rub his back in an effort to calm him. It seemed to work, at least a bit.

Tony suddenly dropped his head to Peter’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” Tony finally released him, and pulled back enough for Peter to sit next to him, still clasped under his arm. “I told you I had bad dreams?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Peter snuggled close. “Did I die or something?”

“Kinda.” Tony’s voice was strained.

Peter chose not to say anything and sat unmoving next to him, waiting to hear more.

“Thing is…” Tony took an unsteady breath and gripped his arm like he might slip away. “Thing is, they weren’t always just dreams.”

_Oh_.

The words hit Peter like a punch to the stomach. Of course it was that. What else could it be but that? The dust in the back of his mind stirred, but he ignored it and turned to wrap his arm across Tony’s middle.

“I’m sorry.” Tony pulled his head gently against his chest and held it there. “I scared you a minute ago, and I probably scared you just now by bringing it up, but…”

Peter closed his eyes- it was an automatic response by now- and let himself lean heavily on Tony like he’d said helped him know he was real.

“I lost you.” Tony’s voice was barely a whisper, but the emotion it held made it seem to fill the room. He buried his nose in Peter’s curls.

“But you brought me back.”

Tony didn’t answer. He seemed to be holding his breath, but his chest trembled lightly under Peter’s head. 

“Mr. Stark?”

He was tense, and Peter just barely heard a tiny, choked breath escape him.

“Are you crying?”

“Maybe?”

He was definitely crying. Peter held still with a sort of shocked awe at the situation, completely at a loss for what to do.

Fortunately, less than a minute later, Tony sniffed and cleared his throat, smoothing a hand over Peter’s hair like _he’d_ been the one crying and in need of reassurance.

“God, kid.”

Peter still didn’t know what to do.

“Sorry about that. I’m just… I missed you, Pete.”

Peter relaxed slightly and leaned against him again. “Hey Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

Tony’s heart sped right up again, and Peter decided to venture his question anyway. “Did you mean what you said? About me being like… you know?”

“My kid?”

“Yeah.” Peter wasn’t sure why he felt so much like holding his breath.

“I had five years to think about that, and how I didn’t get to tell you, so I’m telling you now.” Tony clasped his hand around Peter’s shoulder. “You _are_ my kid. I’d call you my son any day, and-“ He stopped himself suddenly, as if frozen. “Only if you want, obviously. I don’t wanna assume…”

“No, no I want to!” Peter couldn’t scramble to hug him fast enough. “I really, really want that, Mr. Stark.”

“Then here we are.” Tony’s voice was thick with emotion again, and he paused to press a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “Kid, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Peter sighed and settled against him, feeling warm and safe and secure, and more solid than he’d felt in a long time. “Me too.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with this story and reading it, please let me know what you thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please do not copy, print, or reproduce outside this site, I don’t want to get sued.


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